“To which class does Don Rafael belong?” asked Adrian.
Santiago’s usually mild face grew stern.
“To the wrong one, I fear. That is what I am trying to find out. I have been told he was a patriot. What I have seen today leads me to believe the opposite.”
Pedro had listened eagerly to what Santiago had been saying, but without speaking a word. Now he could contain himself no longer.
“He is a dog!” he exclaimed, “a would-be murderer and a thief. He knows not honor! He bites the hand that fed him, and he would now help to assassinate our good president, Francisco Madero!”
Santiago’s eyes flashed. “Have a care,” he said. “How do you know all this?”
“My father is a trusted friend of President Madero. He knows that the president has at heart the good of all the people, not the rich alone. Don Rafael, as you call him, was a trusted servant of
my father. He betrayed his trust, and has become the vilest of the vile. I can give you the proof!”
For several minutes Santiago remained silent, thinking deeply. When he spoke it was with determination.
“You say you can give me proof,” he said. “You shall have the opportunity. Come!”